The Myst Reader Read Free Page A

ladle and drinking from it, then offered it back.
    “No,” he said softly, shaking his head. “You finish it.”
    With a smile, she drained the ladle and handed it back.
    “Well, Atrus,” she said, suddenly relaxed, as if the water had washed the tiredness from her. “What did you see?”
    He hesitated, then. “I saw a brown cloth sack, and the sack moved.”
    Her laughter was unexpected. Atrus frowned, then grinned as she produced the sack from within the folds of her cloak. It was strange, for it seemed not to hold anything. Not only that, but the cloth of the sack was odd—much coarser than those the traders normally used. It was as if it had been woven using only half the threads. If it had held salt, the salt would have spilled through the holes in the cloth, yet the sack held something.
    “Well?” she said, amused by his reaction. “Are you going to take it?”
    He stared at her, genuinely surprised. “For me?”
    “Yes,” she said. “For you.”
    Gingerly, he took it from her, noticing that the sack’s mouth was tied with the same red twine as the seed bag.
    “What is it?”
    “Look and see,” she said, taking her knife and handing it to him by the handle. “But be careful. It might bite.”
    He froze, looking to her, perplexed now.
    “Oh, go on,” she said, laughing softly. “I’m only teasing you, Atrus. Open it.”
    Slowly, reluctantly, he slipped the blade beneath the twine and pulled. The mouth of the sack sighed open.
    Putting the blade down on the rock, he lifted the glasses up onto the top of his head, then grasped the sack’s neck, slowly drawing it open, all the while peering into its dark interior.
    There was something there. Something small and hunched and…
    The sound made him drop the sack and jerk back, he hairs at his neck standing up with shock.
    “Careful…” Anna said, bending down to pick the sack up.
    Atrus watched, astonished, as she took out something small and finely furred. For a moment he didn’t understand, and then, with a shock, he saw what it was. A kitten! Anna had bought him a kitten!
    He made a sound of delight, then, getting to his feet, took a step toward her, bending close to look at the tiny thing she held.
    It was beautiful. Its fur was the color of the desert sand at sunset, while its eyes were great saucers of green that blinked twice then stared back at him curiously. In all it was no bigger than one of Anna’s hands.
    “What is it called?” he asked.
    “She’s called Pahket.”
    “Pahket?” Atrus looked up at his grandmother, frowning, then reached out and gently stroked the kitten’s neck.
    “That name’s an ancient one. The eldest of the traders said it was a lucky name.”
    “Maybe,” Atrus said uncertainly, “but it doesn’t feel right. Look at her. She’s like a tiny flame.” He smiled as the kitten pressed against his hand and began to purr noisily.
    “Then maybe you should call her that.”
    “Flame?”
    Anna nodded. She watched her grandson a moment, then spoke again. “There’s a small clay bowl in the kitchen…”
    Atrus looked up. “The blue one?”
    “Yes. Flame can use it. In fact, she could probably do with some water now, having been in that sack.”
    Atrus smiled, then, as if he’d done it all his infant life, picked the kitten up with one hand, cradling it against his side, and carried her across, vaulting up the steps in twos and threes before ducking inside the kitchen. A moment later he reemerged, the bowl in his other hand.
    “Come on, Flame,” he said, speaking softly to the kitten as if it were a child, his thumb gently rubbing the top of its head, “let’s get you a drink.”
     
    §
     
    As darkness fell, Atrus sat on the narrow balcony that ran the length of the outer sleeping chamber, the dozing kitten curled beside him on the cool stone ledge as he stared up at the moon. It had been a wonderful day, but like all days it had to end. Below and to his right, he could see his grandmother, framed in